


Falling Apart Together

by CobaltStargazer



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Emotional Comfort, F/M, Passion, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 08:33:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2262951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltStargazer/pseuds/CobaltStargazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he's broken, so is she.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Apart Together

The storm ended during the night, and the morning was gray and wet. Spencer and Elle slept in because it was Sunday. She was tucked into the crook of his arm when he woke up, and he gingerly disentangled himself. She chuffed in her sleep, rolled over onto her other side. He'd put on some pajama bottoms before crawling under the covers. He stepped over the dog on his way to the bathroom, because at some point she'd come in from the laundry room to sleep near the bed.

Once he was finished with his morning ritual, he picked up his wet clothes from the counter and carried them to where Maxie usually slept. The washer was empty, so he tossed them in and set it to run a small load. Then he made his way into the kitchen, where the wall clock said it was past eleven. The profiler yawned as he poked around in the upper cabinet.

It took the Keurig a bit to perk, and when it was finished Spencer padded back into the bedroom to wake Elle up with a kiss and a cup of coffee. She smiled at him sleepily as she re-arranged her pillow so she could sit up. 

"Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah," she answered after her first taste of the coffee. "You?" She'd been worried about it before she drifted off, that he'd have nightmares. One bare shoulder went up and down noncommittally. He had coffee of his own, and he looked down into it instead of making eye contact. Torn between prodding him and letting it drop, she compromised by putting her free hand on his upper thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. He looked up, and his smile was a little sad. 

"Sometimes I wonder what you're getting out of this."

He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but when he did he was encompassing all of it, up to and including the fact that he could just walk in out of the rain and have her welcome him. What if it wasn't enough some day, these brief times together? What if _he_ wasn't enough? Spencer directed his gaze back into his coffee cup before he had another drink of the hot beverage.

His vulnerability made Elle's stomach clench, and there was a muted sound as she put her cup on the bedside table. As prickly as she was, she'd only ever been soft with him, even before this, before _them_.

"You think I'd let just anybody in here at four in the morning?"

Her tone was wry, and he lifted his eyes to her face. "No. I didn't mean that, I just meant..."

"I think about it when you're not here," she said, gently interrupting. If she let him go on, he'd tangent, and she wanted to say this now while the words were right there. "That you'll meet some hot girl who can actually keep up with you, one who's around all the time. Maybe even right in the office in Quantico. That it'll happen and then you'll just stop showing up after a few pity visits. 'What if he finds somebody smarter that he can go for coffee with and talk to every day'?" She shrugged a little. Her hand was still on his leg.

The idea that Elle could ever be uncertain about anything hit Spencer down in his guts, and his grip tightened on the coffee cup. "I worry about the people you meet all day," he admitted. "Not because of you, but because they're around and I'm not. That you'll find someone...someone better."

The words had so much gravity that it was like having a small planet between them. That they could show one another the places where they were broken without worry about judgment made those places a little less broken, a little more whole. She could look past his nearly frightening intelligence and see the man beneath, and he could find the gentleness beneath the spines. She was his cactus flower, although he'd never in a million years call her that because mushy sentiment appealed to neither of them. He put his coffee aside, took her hands.

"I'm not going anywhere. As long as you'll have me, you can have all that I am."

She just _had_ to kiss him after that, and the contact lingered for a long time. If the coffee got cold, so what? He woke her up more efficiently than a gallon of the stuff.

"I'm gonna want you for a long time," she said when their mouths finally separated. "Possibly forever."

"Good."

"Want a shower? I can join you."

Spencer pretended to think about it, and Elle swatted his upper arm. He pulled the covers aside, then gave her space to get out of bed. The washer had gone silent by the time he poked his head into the laundry room, and he put the clothes into the dryer as Elle moved past him.

She took off her pajamas, hung them on the back of the bathroom door. She tested the spray as he followed her into the smaller room, then took off his pajama bottoms. He pulled her into the tub after him, closed the curtain. She already had the soap in her hands, worked up a semi-decent lather. She loved to touch him almost as she loved it when he put those agile, talented hands on her.

His eyes slitted when she started to soap his chest, and when her hands wandered down to his stomach he dipped his head forward and let water run over the top of his head. He took an animal comfort in her touch after his earlier confession, found assurance in the physical contact. The sensation of Elle's fingers through the soap made his muscles quiver. He could feel the blood rushing south.

"You are the most beautiful creature."

"And you look like a horny angel."

He leaned down further and kissed her, and really, suggesting a shower had largely been an excuse to get him naked and wet. Steam swirled as Spencer turned Elle around, pressed her back against the wall. She had her arms around his neck. His erection was pressing into her stomach. Wet hands slid over wetter flesh as he nudged her legs apart. She could barely breathe.

The profiler's eyes closed as he slid into her, a growl-moan escaping from his throat. She bit the flesh close to his collarbone, and the sting of teeth was delightful. Her hands dragged down his back as the water from the shower head pounded on his shoulders.

"I love you."

He said it into her ear, and she moaned as he started to move. He was the answer to a question she hadn't even realized she'd been asking, and his broken places almost matched hers. The fingers of one hand were tangled into his wet hair as she pushed her hips into his, keeping time with his rhythm. Her ass slapped against the wall of the shower. Spencer's hips twisted, and Elle made a wordless noise as the angle changed. The hand in his hair tugged, and he slanted his mouth over hers. When the Now was all there might be, he didn't want to let it slip through his hands.

When she came, he felt the clench down in his toes, and he finished a half-pace behind her. He imagined that his back was bright pink from the heat of the water. She was hanging onto his shoulders for dear life.

"Horny angel?"

"The horniest."

He laughed, managed to flail behind him and turn the water off. His cock was softening, but he still wanted skin-to-skin contact. She was kissing his neck. Her inner muscles were still quivering.

"Bed?" Her voice was drowsy, and he nodded. Post-coital cuddling was better done lying down, provided that his legs would hold him up until he could get to the bedroom.

Somehow, though, Spencer knew that if he faltered, Elle would be there to bear him up.


End file.
